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or it be lang; gie me a good flail or a corn fork, I sud kill Russians anew, before I gaed to face yon flyting Ministers, and be set up like a warld's wonder on their cock-stool or back-stool; and wha can
hide the shame when every body looks to them, wi' their sacken sacks, or gowns, on them like a piece aud canvas prick about a body, for naething but what every body does amaist or they are married; as well as me.
Mith. My man, Johnnie, ye're no the first that has done it, and ye'll no be the last.
Mag. Aye, aye, and that gars your son be so good o't as he is; the thing that's bred in the flesh is ill to put out of the bane.
Mith. Daft woman, what way wad the world
